Just Katherine--Patron Saint of Hot Messes: Sometimes Growth Comes from the Wrestling

Thursday morning William came home from basketball practice and in his nonchalant way said, "Oh Mama I'm going to start in the JV game on Saturday." "Really?" I asked trying to maintain his nonchalant attitude because that's how he likes it--very little hype, no happy dance (did this child really come out of MY body? Definitely takes after his daddy). Nonetheless, I knew what a big deal this was to him. He has worked really hard, always gets some minutes, never as many as he wants, and he has never started. "How do you know?" I continued. "Well coach said that anyone who came to practice today is starting. Lots of people didn't show up."

Now this is a total aside rant--it's winter break. The boys still have three games each and practices are "optional." But I guess optional practices matter in setting a line-up. That's a whole other discussion, and honestly, my boy was going to start, so I wasn't initiating it. (and that decision is also a whole other discussion....)

Back to William--"Who was there?" I asked. At this point William listed six players--3 were regular starters. Now I'm not a basketball genius, remember I'm the football fanatic, but I definitely know six people can't start. Still I asked the question, "How are six of you going to start?" At this William's face momentarily fell and then his eyes met mine and he said, "I'm going to tell Coach to start N*** over me." I must admit there was a part of inside of me screaming at myself and silently at William, "NO NO NO! You've earned the chance to start JV as a freshman. You never miss practice, and you work hard. Please don't make me ask him why, please don't make me ask him why, please don't make me ask him why." Despite the protest my mouth formed the words and I heard myself say, "Why would you do that? Don't you want to start?" His eyes met mine again with a fire in them and a look of disbelief. "Of course I want to start," he said, "but Mama I start every freshman game and N*** sometimes never even gets minutes. I'm not trying to be mean, but there's a chance he will never start a basketball game. This may be his only chance. I'm not great, but I have a chance."

Ya'll I admit it. I'm competitive; I'm a quietly neurotic sports fanatic mama, and I'm a fierce mama bear about fairness. I'm also often dumb struck by my second son's gentle and kind spirit. (again probably from his daddy) All of these were colliding inside me as though I was the ball inside a pinball machine and I just kept hitting bumpers and wouldn't drop. Finally I said, "If you're sure, but you've also earned this chance." I definitely didn't want him to regret it--okay I'll admit it; as proud as I was of him, I also wanted him to start. "I think I'll think about it. I won't see coach until Saturday morning, but I really think it's the right thing to do." and with that William headed to the mindless man-cave--oops I mean the basement to play PS4.

Later that afternoon William came upstairs and said, "I just don't know what to do. I really want to start. I think I will have a chance later in my basketball career, but I don't know. I want N*** to have this moment, but I want it too. What do you think I should do?" Man these questions are hard! I didn't know what to tell him--there was no "right" answer. "Maybe coach will start both of you and not one of the regular starters who were at practice this morning." This is where I get emotion from William--when I say something that he clearly thinks is--he'd never say 'stupid' remember he is my sweet boy sometimes called a mama's boy, but he definitely doesn't always think I say the most intelligent things--'clueless' would be his word, "Seriously Mama? You think coach isn't going to start _____ or _____ or ______?" He had a point. Finally I just admitted it, "William, I don't know what you should do. It's your choice. Take some time and think about it."

These conversations continued all day Friday and early Saturday morning. William was really struggling. Saturday morning he said, "I'm a little worried that if I tell Coach I don't want to start because I want N*** to start he won't play me at all. He might think I don't care, and that's not true. I do care; I just want N** to well, you know." "William," I slowly started, "I don't think Coach will think you don't care. I know he respects you and likes you." (Again the emotional face that said, that's all fine Mama but liking me and letting me play basketball or two different things.) I ignored the face and said, "Why don't you talk to him about it? Why don't you just tell him what you're thinking?" "I don't know Mama, this isn't Upward basketball or even middle school basketball. This is high school, and it's just different. And honestly, there's a part of me that wants to say nothing because I do want to start. Is that bad?" I could see the struggle going on inside my child and I wanted to fix it. I wanted to give him a definitive answer of what was right but the truth is there was no right, there was no wrong, there was no good, there was no bad. There was just a choice. "Bubbie," (I've let it out, sometimes that's what I call him...) "It's not bad to want to start, and truthfully you don't have to do anything. Truthfully you don't even know what Coach is planning. This is your choice to say something or not and there's not a right or wrong." He didn't look relieved or even reassured but he said, "I'll keep thinking about it." An hour or so later as Boss was taking him to the gym I tentatively asked, "What are you going to do?" "Mama, I still don't know." I said a silent prayer for him and he was off.

Chris, Caroline and I piled into the car camera in hand to get pictures--especially pictures of him starting if that's what was going to happen. We had no idea--I admit there was a part of me that really wanted him to talk to the coach and a part of me that really wanted him to just take his chance and start. As we neared the gym the tension was mounting and the phone rang; Chris answered--it was SK; she'd been in an accident. Once we knew she wasn't hurt I was so irritated--now one of us would have to go and not even see the beginning of the game. Chris said, "I'll go." (Remember he's the one Sweet William takes after) but I replied, "No, I get to see him start every freshman game. They're too early for you to ever get there. Just take pictures." Caroline piped up from the back, "I'll be in charge of that." I dropped them and headed back to the accident. As SK and I were waiting for the police I got a text from Caroline, "He started. N*** didn't."

Finishing up the accident report--a whole other story--I headed back to the gym. As I got there they were down by a lot in the second quarter. "He played the whole first quarter--got some good rebounds. Really did well. Hasn't gotten back in." I tried to read his body language, his facial expressions, what had he decided to do? He did get in for a few more minutes in the fourth quarter and N*** got in the last minute. After the game and the post game talk William found us (we had a whole other game to sit through--this is our life). "Did you talk to the coach?" I hesitantly asked. "Yes ma'm," my overly talkative boy answered. "What did you say?" I hesitantly pressed. "I told him exactly what you said to say. I was conflicted but I wanted N** to have a chance to start." Knowing N** didn't start, I had to keep asking. "What did he say?" He said, "N*** can start in the next freshman game." And with that he was off to sit with his team and watch his brother and the varsity team.